


all things old become new again

by shepherd



Series: libnyx week [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Crying, Emotional Constipation, First Time, Idiots in Love, M/M, Requited Love, Secret Crush, Sexual Content, set a few months after they come to insomnia btw, this just in nyx cries after sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 17:31:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12964689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepherd/pseuds/shepherd
Summary: Nyx remembers days long past. Lingering in the schoolyard to catch glimpses of his first love among the crowd. Slipping from his bedroom window to steal away into the forest and meet with his second under the guise of darkness. Kissing his third by the roaring river, feet wet and hands covered in filth.Leaning together on the sofa for warmth as their heating trawled its way to life all those years later with the man Nyx hoped would be his last.





	all things old become new again

“Shit,” Libertus says, dumbstruck, and there is a beat of stifling silence before he scrambles up and away. Panic makes him even less graceful than usual. There is an awful, strangled noise of pain when he smacks his foot against the wooden frame of Nyx’s bed. At any other point the sight of Libertus almost careening straight to the floor might have made Nyx laugh. Now he can’t suppress the subtle tremors that wracked his body, the shivering, the sniffling. When Nyx closes his eyes it agitates the building tears.

“Oh, fuck,” Libertus repeats, and Nyx wishes his pillow wasn’t propping up his hips so he can suffocate himself with it from the shame.

They are pressed flush, tangled together. In more ways than one; ways that would make the most terrible of flirts blush. Red brightens up their chests. Sweat beads on Nyx’s temple. With a grunt, Libertus pulls away and his softening cock slips free from Nyx’s exhausted body. Legs around his waist drop back against the mattress. They avoid each other’s eyes. None of it was dignified. None of it was the afterglow either of them had expected. But Nyx could not feel past the burn - it scalds Nyx from the inside out, blackening his heart, taking over the crowded space behind his eyes. There was too much of it at once.

Nyx had never seen himself as a man who could be overwhelmed. But his muscles were sore, his cheeks hot, enveloped by flame.

Libertus speaks his name, again and again. It fills the room in it’s entirety. Peeling walls and smudged glass fade away from his sight. Broad and talented hands caress his hips. They slide along the softness of his belly. Fingertips press against him in a careful massage. “Did I hurt you?” He asks. Worry spreads in wrinkles all across Libertus’ forehead. It easily adds another decade to his youth.

Nyx’ mouth forms competent words. What instead emerges is a low croak.  _ Don’t cry _ , he tells himself.  _ Don’t fucking cry, _ and then the first tear escapes him. Another follows swiftly, and another, before the floodgates burst outward. It blinds him. The only positive is that he can’t see Libertus expression and Nyx is desperately grateful. It’s frightened, he imagines, creased with dismay. “I’m sorry,” he says, and Nyx had never heard him babble before. Neither of them had been particularly gifted with their words, but Nyx had never seen a man spin so wildly out of control. The repetition of Nyx, Nyx,  _ Nyx  _ was enough to get on his last nerve. “ Fucking - what can I - why didn’t - I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry -”

Nyx has to pat blindly for Libertus’ scruffy cheek. Fingertips met rough stubble - the both of them need to shave. Desperately at that, but neither have any time in the morning these days. Nyx can barely snatch a protein bar before he’s out the door, due in the Citadel within the hour. 

When he opens his eyes again the tears make the world sway. Hard lines smudge into soft. Daylight sparkles and shifts. “It’s alright,” This time the words emerge. Barely, with difficulty through the raw mess of his throat. All of that shouting had torn it apart. Their cramped little two room apartment had been filled with desperate cries and wavering moans, enough to get their neighbours pounding on their walls, and Nyx wished they could go back to that. When things were so much easier, when they didn’t have to talk.

Fucking was easy. Swallowing down his pathetic feelings for his best friend had never been. How did you tell a man that he was more of a home to you than the crumbling brick and the bustling city around them?

“It’s not alright,” Libertus began in a flurry, but the rage simmering underneath comes out in full force. Nyx winces - and Libertus grinds to a halt. He sighs, smoothes a hand over his own face, let it come to a rest over Nyx’s knuckles. Libertus’ cheek feels like summoning magefire in his palms, but so much better. Lit up with too human passion and exertion. Nyx’s flame was always cold, frostbite in his joints. 

Libertus’ other hand strokes down to cup the strong muscle of Nyx’s thigh. The skin tingles. They pant together a while, hearts thundering along in perfect time. “I hurt you,” Libertus murmurs, barely audible, dealing silent in the apartment once teeming with noise. 

Regret is a distant look in Libertus’ eyes, evident in every part of him. His voice barely registers to even Nyx’s sensitive ears. Nyx knows in his heart that Libertus is not a brute. Too many heard his gruff voice and shied away. Even more saw the brawn but never the brains. Not even his family, the people who ought to know -  _ ought to have known _ , Nyx’s ever spiralling mind softly corrects - him best, and it’s what Nyx adores about him. Libertus’ little fractals, the tiny parts of him only Nyx could see. Other parts that no one cared to study intently. Violence was all too easy, and love and care the most taxing of all. Libertus had a greater capacity for forgiveness than Nyx ever dreamed of one day having.

Libertus was a powerhouse, an entire childhood of working tirelessly on his parent’s garula farm building up his thick muscle, and Nyx had seen him easily shatter bone. But those hands had cupped his hips like they were fragile things and he remained constantly aware of his position, determined not to crush Nyx below. Rough fingers had been gentle preparing him. When Libertus finally thrust inside he fought hard not to lose his carefully conditioned control and still, still Nyx was weeping. Entry had hurt, but only for moments, until Nyx’s breathing could even out. Libertus’ affectionate kisses along his throat and his slow pace had soothed all his pain.

Libertus Ostium, third born to simple farmers on the smallest island of Galahd, nothing noteworthy about him in the least. But to Nyx, he was everything.

Perfect hands, a trusting heart. With that Nyx could chase his fancy that Libertus could love him in return. And now he had cast it all aside, shaking and crying as if Libertus had brutalized him. There wasn’t a single thing wrong, nothing could be with Libertus in his bed, and Nyx would not have been surprised if Libertus refused to touch him ever again.

All Nyx had been was a good lay, stress relief after some of the shittiest months of their lives, and now Nyx was crying like he was a child with a scraped knee again. Like Libertus wasn’t hurting. Like Libertus hadn’t lost everything he held dear too.

“You didn’t hurt me,” Nyx hiccups, and slides his hand along to tug at his ear. With a forced, pointed smile he twists the lobe gently. Libertus’ eyes on his are intense. “You’ve never before.”

“Well, yeah,” Libertus says, as incredulous as if the answer were obvious. “I’ve never stuck my dick in your ass before.” Frustration makes the colour from his chest crawl up to his cheeks. Shame made his eyes red hot, and before Nyx can protest the self hatred Libertus’ hands drop, guiding Nyx’s legs back up, holding behind his knees to expose Nyx entirely. It’s embarrassing, even after everything they’ve done together. The mess Libertus made inside him is still wet between his thighs. But Nyx doesn’t protest. “Let me check you out.”

“It’s fine,” Nyx stressed, adamant even in his tears. Libertus pays him no mind and wet fingers are laughably gentle as they press lightly where he’s slick. As if two of Libertus’ fingers would ruin him after Libertus near enough destroyed him, nailing him into the mattress, a fluttering butterfly pinned under glass. Sensitivity does make Nyx squirm - it’s pleasant, but strange when not fueled by single minded arousal. There’s no fog over his mind. No desperate longing makes him wild for Libertus’ fingers, stroking over the skin. They check him over carefully, surreal. “Lib,” Nyx says, strained, and when Libertus’ fingers delve back inside, meeting no resistance, he lightly kicks out and catches the side of Libertus’ head. Offence immediately blooms over his friend’s expression. “Listen. There’s nothing wrong. This...this ain’t a physical thing.”

For a moment, Libertus pauses. Those thick fingers pause halfway through rubbing at his inner walls. Tenderly checking for tears, eyes locked onto Nyx’s for any sign of pain. Nyx can’t help but think of how Libertus dragged inside him, that incredible friction, and his mouth dries out.

Libertus considers him a moment with a conflicted look about him, rapidly replaced by adorable confusion as Nyx watches him come to a complicated conclusion he doesn’t quite understand. His face wrinkles up. It makes Nyx want to kiss him. All he’s ever wanted to do was kiss him.

“I don’t get it.”

A shrug is is response. Nyx’s fingers toy with Libertus’ piercing, a small stone set shallow into silver. A gift from his mother on his fifteenth birthday. Many followed, but a Galahdan never forgot their first. Nyx thought of his tongue, studded with silver. No other boys had pierced tongues and never so young.  _ That was Ulric,  _ they said. Always needing to be braver, stronger than his peers.

Libertus never removed the stud, not even when he slept soundly or swam in their winding rivers. Any warnings about the dangers went stubbornly ignored. “It’s just…”

Libertus’ mother. Nyx’s mother beside her. Strong as Titan, loving as Shiva. Immovable as any mountain and they hadn’t even had a chance to bury Libertus’ mother’s body. There wasn’t time enough for even that simple kindness.

Against his will, tears come heavier. “It’s just everything,” Nyx hopes it will explain enough.

It’s a double sided blade. It runs him through in agony. Against the abrupt understanding and the horror on Libertus’ face, it cuts easily through his flesh and muscle.

“Shiva’s - Nyx,” he moans, and lets his legs drop for the last time. Those fingers draw free of him and Nyx shudders hard with the loss. Libertus looks just about ready to up and leave, crawl off and die in him shame. Every muscle pulls taut against his skin. “I shouldn’t have - shouldn’t have pushed this on you. It ain’t right. Not after - I’m sorry.”

How a man so in tune with Nyx could get him so wrong was astounding. Hearing Libertus tell him he wanted him was something he would never forget. Years could come to wash away every happy memory but Libertus’ kiss would forever stand the test of time. There had been so many men in Nyx’s life and none so precious as Libertus. No men had meant the earth and the stars to him. A few might have coaxed promises from him in the heat of the moment, words Nyx had squandered so easily like  _ I love you,  _ but he had dropped them all for the farmer’s son with the soft eyes. And none of them brought him to tears when they kissed him.

Nyx remembers days long past. Lingering in the schoolyard to catch glimpses of his first love among the crowd. Slipping from his bedroom window to steal away into the forest and meet with his second under the guise of darkness. Kissing his third by the roaring river, feet wet and hands covered in filth. Leaning together on the sofa for warmth as their heating trawled its way to life all those years later with the man Nyx hoped would be his last.

Cuddling up in the cold might not have seemed the pinnacle of romance. Of course, Nyx had longed. But the idea of Libertus burning just as fiercely seemed an impossible dream. Libertus, smiling when Nyx draped his arm around his shoulder. Throwing their one blanket a little further over Nyx’s legs even if it exposed his ankles to the chill.

Kissing him; murmuring praise and affection in his ears.

“That ain’t right,” Nyx tells him, firm as he could with soaked cheeks. He can’t keep his hands off his lover now, not when he finally has him. A hand moves down the width of Libertus’ shoulders. There remained a bite, small and solidifying. In the morning it would stand stark against Libertus’ skin. Within the week, it would be gone. Time was a cruel thing. “I wanted you. I still want you. I don’t regret it, not for a second.” Nyx’s thumb presses at the mark. Still sensitive - Libertus’ nostrils flare. His shoulder tightens up hard. “It’s just the way life is right now. And I think,” he breathes, takes a moment. Libertus’ eyes remain on his face. Nyx’s words felt clumsy, foolish with such an intimate audience, but his soldiers on. As always. “I think I’ve just been so tightly strung for so damn long, and now I’ve had… release, I… I don’t know.” Nyx hesitates. “Does that sound stupid?”

“Hell no,” Libertus’ eyes narrow dangerously. Growing ire at the very thought has his eyes flashing. “It makes perfect sense. Everything’s fucked.”

Nyx laughs, and it almost breaks the tension - almost. When he blinks more tears keep on falling. Nyx wonders if he’ll ever stop, if he’ll drown the both of them.

But the sound makes Libertus smile faintly. Even as Nyx’ hands explore further south they never shrug him away. Nyx feels over the remarkable strength of Libertus’ chest, hesitating for a few moments over the scars that crisscross over his heart. Libertus simply takes his wrist, holds him to his body as he leans. Settling down beside him on the mattress, he looks almost at ease. The mattress creaks underneath their shared weight.

But the concern lingers, as it always will. “Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?”

“I’m sure,” Nyx promises, and Libertus’ expression finally becomes serene.

When Nyx finally presses harder, he feels how Libertus’ heart has slowed to match his. Nyx takes comfort in the confident thump of muscle. His own skips a beat. It reminds him they’re both alive. It might not be much but it’s something. Libertus splays, happily taking over most of Nyx’s small bed, barely enough to fit one man alone. It takes some adjusting but Nyx moves to half lounge on his partner, a hand settled over his bicep. A satified sigh escapes him before he can clamp down on it.

Tears still dropped onto the skin of Libertus chest and Libertus murmured, pulling him that little bit closer. Back bowing, Nyx leans into his, head tucked against the thickness of Libertus’ throat.

Nyx has never known anything like it. Nothing more pleasurable. It soothes him the way only family could. Any other lover had been secret, already pulling on their clothes and slipping away into the night. Libertus seemed content to remain in his bed, tangle up their limbs again. Even if it meant laying in their mess.

Silence felt strange. It felt right, but Nyx felt hyper aware of the rustling of the sheets, the way his breath caught. Everything is damp where Nyx spilled on his hands and knees, sheets sticky and drying fast, and Nyx can’t find a single shred of him that cares. Solace comes in the form of Libertus seeming not to mind either. Neighbours bustle around in their own apartments now, no longer having to deal with the two assholes in apartment 128 loudly fucking at noon on a Sunday, their lives going on. A crackling radio plays from apartment 129. Their walls are so thin that if Nyx strains he can hear the hourly news bulletin. Vague curiosity has him listening. Then Libertus reaches up to toy with Nyx’s longest braid, thumb moving to wipe the last few tears from his cheeks, and Nyx’s stomach does somersaults. 

Even as everything has changed, Nyx guesses the world stays the same. Libertus’ touch will always make him melt.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” The rumble rolls through Libertus’ chest, quaking inside Nyx from head to toe. 

Nyx doesn’t need to think about it. “No,” he says, and shrugs. Too much heartbreak, and too little time. If Nyx wanted to air out all of his pain it wouldn’t be dumped on Libertus’ alone - they would share, and their woes would take a whole other lifetime. Death hangs over their heads, and Nyx wants to live for just a little while.

It’s a sobering thought, and Nyx turns to inhale the familiar scent of Libertus to chase the hurt away. Familiarity makes him smile against the skin. Hazelnut and something sweeter, something that makes Libertus’ hair grow that little bit faster than Nyx’s. “Sorry I ruined the afterglow.”

Libertus huffs. There’s a tugging at his hair. “You didn’t ruin it,” he tells him. “I just panicked.” At some point, the tips of his ears turn pink. Something that Nyx has seen a thousand times but will never not be endearing. “M’sorry.

“You got nothing to apologise for.”

“Could say the same about you,” Libertus shoots back, quick as Nyx’s blades, and knows in the smug curve of his smile that Nyx can’t argue. 

He tries. It wouldn’t be Nyx if he didn’t bicker. “Seriously. This was good.” He pauses. Good doesn’t seem to describe what they did together. Anticipation made the dance all the sweeter.

“Better than good,” Libertus corrects him, and leans to kiss Nyx’s temple.

Nyx aches, raw. Words and touch hit him hard in his core and it sets him reeling, cast away in unfamiliar waters. The waves batter him, and Astrals help him, he’s crying again. Harder this time, the kind that almost brings mournful whines, hiccups with the sharpness of breath. “Libertus,” he draws out his name like he never wants to say the name of another, and Libertus draws him even tighter against his chest.

He simply holds him for a long time. Nails tickle against each of Nyx’s tiny tattoos. Legs covered in thick hair twine with his. Libertus draws his head against his throat, doesn’t complain when soon his skin is soaked with tears and a little snot. It’s ungraceful, undignified. Not the kind of thing a grown man does, but Nyx can’t stop.

It’s a long time before Libertus speaks again.

“Maybe it’s not the best time,” he says, softly, tentatively. “but I want you to be happy. You deserve it.”

Despite the chill in the apartment, warmth overtakes him. It’s the best thing he’s ever felt, second only to those lips now against his sternum. Nyx’s smile is weak. He chokes out laughter and stretches his hand, stroking up the expanse of Libertus’ bare back. When Libertus moans sweetly he laughs. Libertus curls up into him like a big cat stretched out alongside a roaring fire. All the comforts of home in one man.

Finally, the heating comes on with an awful rumbling groan, and soon enough the apartment is the closest to warm it’s been in months - and Libertus never lets go.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr, at larsasolidor. hmu


End file.
